


Determination

by infinite_devil



Category: Halo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4229589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_devil/pseuds/infinite_devil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the assault on High Charity, Thel 'Vadam finds himself in odd company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Determination

"Ma'am? It's good to have you back."

There was a click of metal from the cockpit as the Spartan shifted in the pilot's seat, meeting the gaze of the holographic woman perched on the dashboard holotank. His golden visor caught the light of the Ark's petals.

The video connection with the sergeant cut out with a fizzle and a hiss, going unnoticed as the soldier and machine shared a glance for the slightest of seconds. As the unfinished Halo ring started to fill the viewscreen, they looked away from each other — though the Spartan's gaze lingered for a half-moment longer.

As the aircraft pitched and nosed higher, closer to the Halo ring hanging there in the heavens, the blue curves of the Ark pulled away. The window became a glimpse into the void of starry oblivion, and the sound of the Pelican's powerful engines settled into the silence with surprising familiarity, founded in the trials of war; though it had only been a few weeks since he joined the fight with the humans, Thel 'Vadam had quickly adjusted to the blunt and barbaric nature of their style of warfare; from the unbridled roar of a dropship's thrusters, to the harsh thundering of their semi-automatic weapons. Like many of the human soldiers, Thel had learned to hope for the machine-gunfire that heralded the arrival of a Pelican, rather than curse it.

And after escaping the Flood-infested hellhole that was High Charity, the sound of the Pelican's engines was very welcome indeed. He had only just begun to forget the stench of that place — of rot, of stagnant water, of an evil which he feared on a most instinctual and basic level. It was quickly being replaced with the sharp stink of heating metal as the dropship began its descent through the Halo's atmosphere. Even that stink, that ignored side-affect as they teased death by explosive decompression, was welcome.

"Minor hull breach detected," came a feminine voice from the cockpit. "We might have to make a more... theatrical entrance."

Thel glanced up, meeting the eyes of the AI's hologram. She turned away from him again and fell silent. Undoubtedly the Spartan already knew the state of the Pelican; the construct had said it for his benefit alone.

Thel found that the only thing out of place on the dropship was the silence of its sparse crew. The Spartan's silence was not, in itself, odd; he had learned long ago that the soldier was stoic in the harshest extremes. The construct, on the other hand, was surprisingly different. In the few moments he had spent with the AI, Thel had experienced a level of friendliness and humor that was so polar opposite of the Spartan's character that he had been immediately confused that the pair even knew each other. But her silence was of a different worth; especially since she had seen fit to maintain her hologram, even though all she was doing was "standing" there beside the Chief and "looking" out the window. Occasionally she glanced at the Chief, and their gazes met, before splitting again as they focused on their own thoughts. Thel briefly mused over what they could possibly discuss over their private comm link.

They really were a strange pair. When Sergeant Avery Johnson had told Thel that the Master Chief had plans to go to High Charity alone, he had felt the urge to laugh. It had seemed — and in reality, it still was — a needlessly foolish mission. The ship would be filled to the brim with the Flood, the reanimated soldiers that served the Gravemind, whose only tactic was to throw his soldiers by the hundreds into the face of the enemy until they, too, succumbed to the sickness, and the grand prize herself seemed easily replaced. Thel was aware that humanity commanded vast numbers of artificial intelligences; not to mention, a key to light the holy ring could be found on any other installation.

But High Charity itself drew his attention most. Thel could only imagine the horrors that could exist in a moon-sized spaceship populated solely by the corpses of the thousands of civilians that had once lived there. He had glimpsed such horrors when he arrived to provide back-up for the Chief, and he had not gone any further than a few feet into the hellish ship. Half-decomposed human and Covenant soldiers, the remains of their armor sunken into their rotted flesh until it was part of them, running around in packs as if their previous animosity had been completely discarded when the parasite had taken them for its own. Massive, lumbering, mobile tanks of flesh, with jagged lengths of bone matted together with flesh that acted as arms and weapons both, emerged from hidden hallways, and emitted low, warbling growls as they sighted upon him. The entire ship rumbled with distant explosions and threatened imminent collapse with every shudder; machinery, once hidden by Flood flesh, sparked and exploded in arbitrary locations, throwing chunks of sizzling gore in all directions.

They had barely managed to escape with their lives. Even now, Thel was convinced there would have been a better way to activate the ring.

But no.

"He made a promise," Johnson had told him. He spoke resolutely, firmly, silently daring Thel to try and undermine the Chief's justification for the suicide mission. "I ain't gonna try and stop him, and I don't suggest you try, either. Unless you feel like knowing what it's like to eat a rifle stock."

So Thel provided a small aircraft for the Spartan to pilot into High Charity, and made a promise of his own: he would be waiting to provide cover when the Spartan had finished his job. He didn't think he would ever be able to understand what drove the Spartan to make such a risky journey through the downed spaceship to retrieve the AI - or what had given him the strength to brave an army of thousands, alone, and find a machine that might already be broken beyond repair.

Almost on cue, the hologram turned, hands on hips, and looked up at the Spartan, who glanced at her and said nothing. Thel found himself pleasantly surprised to be able to read the situation well, despite the unorthodox nature of it.

He knew what it looked like when a male was losing an argument to a female.

The screen filled with glaring white as they dove into a snow storm, and the engines began to rattle ominously. During his thinking session, Thel had missed the ship's descent into Halo's unfinished atmosphere. Vertigo developed in Thel's stomach as the dropship tilted at a new angle and gained momentum.

The Sangheili warrior looked to the cockpit and waited for any signal from the pair, but there was only silence. After a few moments of the Pelican shaking under the stress caused by its own velocity, the Spartan slipped out of the chair's straps and stood beside the holotank, towering over the construct's avatar. They exchanged a glance, and the construct disappeared from view.

Suddenly the dropship rocked, forcing Thel from his chair and into the far wall, where he stopped himself from face-planting by twisting and using his shoulder to pillow the fall. He looked up in time to see the Spartan reaching quickly — fumbling? — for the holotank, retrieving the small chip from its base and slotting it into the back of his helmet. Then, with the swiftness of a hunter looking for prey, the helmet was up, and the golden visor staring at him.

The Spartan made his way for the Pelican's hatch, soundlessly moving past Thel and walking with a confidence that denied the Pelican's violent shivering. He punched a button in the wall and there was a hiss of hydraulics as the hatch began to open.

"Hold on," the Spartan said, his gravelly voice echoing over Thel's armor's comms. The armored soldier turned his head slightly, fixing him with a sideways stare that managed to be lifeless and intense at the same time, and nodded.

Thel stared back and searched for the confidence. He searched for the unbridled power he had witnessed emanating from the Spartan as he came sprinting out of a tunnel of Flood biomass, shotgun booming in his hands, his AI companion safely stored in his armor. He didn't find that life; the ferocity that existed in the aftermath of a job fueled by sheer determination was absent. Perhaps it was just the frigid air that was filling the cargo hold as the hatch opened fully. Perhaps it was the monotone world outside that suddenly drained the Spartan of that apparent life; turned the olive green of his battered armor into grey, drained the amber visor of its inherent fierceness.

The helmet turned away from him, the Spartan shifting his focus to the snow storm beyond. A snowbank suddenly appeared in explosive detail, and Thel braced himself for their crash landing. The Spartan remained still, an unmovable force against the inevitable.


End file.
